


And my Soul will Follow

by the17thstep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, And so is McCree, Angst, Dragons, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hanzo is dealing with issues, Hurt/Comfort, I dunno what I'm doing I haven't written fanfic in so long help me, M/M, No resurrection technology, Rag tag team savin' the world, Redemption, Smut, Violence and Blood, Zarmei if you squint, almost major character death, because everyone's looking for it, because i love them so, bonding at a soul level, but that comes later, everyone is a badass, like a TON
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the17thstep/pseuds/the17thstep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the reveal of his brother being alive, Hanzo is driven to finding Genji and how he survived. Cue an awkward, anger fueled reunion between brothers, the discovery of the reforming Overwatch, a once proud organization of world protectors now reduced to a rag tag group, and some navigating through feeling with the help of a dusty brash cowboy. </p>
<p>--</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \---
> 
> I really wanted to write a character piece about everyones favorite scowley archer. I hope this does him justice. Much of this fic centers around him and his angsty, angsty emotions. 
> 
> Will venture into some Mchanzo, but this is a slowburn. I'll note which chapter is pure smut when i post it up if thats what you're lookin' for!
> 
> \---

Hanzo needed to find his brother.

 

Their brief meeting in Hanamura only raised more questions; _how did you survive_ and _why did you wait so long_.

The beating the older Shimada had given his brother was brutal, pressured on by his clan to prove himself and punish the younger, make him an example. His honor had been at stake, the honor of their clan. His brother needed to be dealt with.

And if Hanzo were willing to destroy the only other being in this world he felt anything towards out of principle, what lengths wasn’t he willing to go?

Hanzo often counted the guilt he felt over his brother’s murder as proof he still possessed remnants of a soul, that the Shimada clan was not able to rid him completely of his humanity and had failed themselves, dissolving into small factions as the heir to their empire vanished 

Part of him, a small part, had always wished he could have turned those emotions off. It would have been easier. Being alone should be a logical choice.

It keeps you safe.

It keeps you whole, and powerful.

But his soul, fractured and yearning for solitude, was still drawn to finding his brother.

It was not to beg for forgiveness, Hanzo told himself, though that scenario crossed his mind in terrible nightmares, where he waz being struck down and Genji was fulfilling the honorable duty. Hanzo did not know what he wanted from his sibling, only that seeking him out made him feel more whole than he had in years...

He gathered what few leads were left behind, Genji had made sure he was difficult to follow, and found himself on the dusted cliffs in the sweltering heat of an unknown, isolated land.

The trek was brutal on his body, the cliff faces so steep in places it was nearly impossible climb. With the hot sun beating down on his back, the archer exhaustedly hauled himself onto the dusted shelf of rock.

Above Hanzo loomed a metal fortress, built tightly into the rock face, hugging impossibly close to steep ledges.

A short distance away he could see a flurry of activity near one of the large open hangers, as he hid behind a tall stack of metal cargo cases. A girl in orange hauled boxes, snapping back and forth at inhuman speeds as a gorilla and giant man worked together to drag jet engines into the garage.

Behind them trailed a blonde woman with holodevice and pen, skimming her finger down a list and pointing from boxes to the hanger.

Hanzo watched them, hidden from view for a while, contemplating. The intel that Hanzo had gathered while tracking his brother led him to a few significant discoveries. Genji had once been apart of the defunct Overwatch, an organization made up of “heroes” (Hanzo scoffed at the lofty term), who were considered global protectors. He and his clan had dealt briefly with their ilk, keeping to the shadows to prevent further scrutiny. Overwatch was a thorn in the side of the criminal underworld, never for a second would he have considered Genji taking up with such a group.

The Genji he knew lived a spoiled life, free of consequence, free of caring for others. This man in armor was a protector, splashed across big pictures, declared a hero by some. Hanzo read of him saving cities full of people, of halting crises, and inspiring children.

The Genji he knew had once spent an entire week in a brothel, only emerging after Hanzo had dragged him bodily from the establishment.

This man of armor, half machine half his brother, and now, only a few dozen yards from him, trailing an omnic in religious clothing, was the farthest thing from the brother he remembered.

Hanzo adjusted his legs, feeling the strain of his crouching in his thighs when suddenly he felt the cold, unyielding metal muzzle of a gun pressed to the back of his skull.

It’d been a long while since someone had snuck up on him. Hanzo was impressed. Concerned, also that his head would be blown to bits…

“Up,” came the deep voiced command behind him.

Hanzo stood and tried to turn to face his captor. 

“Don’t,” the gun shoved sharply to his spine, “Walk.”

Hanzo began to run through scenarios; the ocean off the cliff was deep enough to support a dive, but from this high the impact would be hell on his body. There was a sniper on the roof in a heavy hooded cloak and helmet, tracking his moves. The man behind him had a limp to his gait, a recent injury. The sun was low and glaring.

Hanzo bided his time, until he saw the glare from the snipers helmet...

The sniper readjusted, glare inhibiting their vision, and Hanzo took the opportunity. He struck the man behind him, ducking down and kicking out his leg. The armed man went down hard, gripping his knee, assault rifle skittering across the ground. The man’s orange visor came to life brightly.

Hanzo slid behind a crate, ducked a few shots from the sniper, pulled his bow from his back and fired off two quick shots to suppress the sniper’s fire.

The man on the ground was gone. Hanzo looked around quickly. A fist drove into his face knocking him back. The grey haired man in the orange visor dove at him again but Hanzo rolled back and to his feet taking off at a sprint.

The man began yelling orders as the shooter up top tried to pin the darting archer down.

The hangar entrance was clear of any personnel Hanzo had seen earlier. He threw himself around a corner drawing an arrow in his bow. Some heroes, Hanzo thought.

Hanzo was alerted to the sound of boots rounding a corner and raised his weapon. He rounded the doorway and was immediately staring down the barrel of a gun.

The man before him was dressed in ridiculous layers for how hot it was. He looked unkempt, his chest armor dented and hat showing a sad amount of aging. Between the man’s grinning teeth was a cigar that looked as if it’d been left in an ashtray for weeks.

“You want to see who’s shot hits first?” He winked at Hanzo, “I reckon I’ll beat you to it…”

Hanzo snarled at the man’s laxness over the situation. He pulled his bow back harder, tempted to let the arrow fly right into the smug man’s grinning face.

“Shimada Genji.” Hanzo growled, reigning in his anger.

The cowboy straightened up a bit. Hanzo could hear the static chatter coming over his earpiece.

“This ain’t a meet-cute, friend…” the man’s finger tapped the trigger of the gun ready to fire off.

“My brother…” Hanzo replied, sweat dripping from his brow from the exertion of holding his bow so tout, “My name is Shimada Hanzo, I want to talk to my brother.”

The man’s finger ceased its tapping and slowly lifted from the trigger of his gun.

“...Yeah...you get that?...” his eyes scanned over Hanzo, “Blue...dragons...yeah...does he have a tattoo on his ass I should check too or is that good enough?”

The archer’s eyes widened and immediately narrowed in disgust as the man in the ridiculous clothing grinned at him and winked.

“You lower yours and I’ll lower mine, Robin.”

Hanzo slowly lowered his weapon, as did the other. The gun was holstered and an open hand was held out in its place.

“Name’s McCree. Jesse McCree.”

Hanzo looked down at the dusty, calloused hand unimpressed and then back up, his expression flat. The man, McCree, drew his hand back slowly and wiped it on his pants in what Hanzo saw as a nervous gesture. Good.

“My brother-”

“Yep, he’s in the main part of the base. You’re lucky I found ya first before the big guys did. Winston ain't too fond of security breaches and Reinhardt likes chargin’ interlopers off cliffs.” McCree gestured for him to follow.

Hanzo ignored the man’s chatter, taking the time to scan in the environment.

The hangar was old and falling to pieces from disuse, chains rusted nearly through from the salty breeze off the ocean. The two big engines being carried prior were laid hastily on the ground. The group had acted quickly on the orders given to them.

There were symbols that Hanzo had recognized as those of the organization Overwatch, scratched off hastily, and another symbol in black scratched off just as hastily but with more obvious malice, if the deeper grooves were anything to go by.

“... How’d you find him here anyway?”

Hanzo stopped before nearly bumping into the back of McCree. The cowboy squinted at him, hands on his hips and too close to his holstered gun for his liking.

Was the soldier from before feeding him questions? Did they still not believe him? Was Genji trying to interrogate him through this man?

“I would like to talk to my brother…”

The man hissed between his teeth and shook his head, “I know, I know, just relax a little, m’only makin’ conversation! Didn’t even know Genji had a brother let alone one with a decent shot and a death wish…”

Decent shot? The archer would certainly show him a decent shot….

“Hanzo?” his brother’s voice, filtered through humming metal caused him to turn quickly. Genji stood a few feet higher on a ledge. His presence felt powerful, the bulk exosuit sleek yet threatening, like the sword he carried on his back.

Hanzo stiffened, fists clenching. His eyes fluttered, a tiny tell of a fear response, so slight, but his brother would recognize it.

“What are you doing here?” Genji asked, tone betraying nothing.

Hanzo pursed his lips, his eyes flicked from his brother, to the cowboy who stood stone still.

“Leave us.” he snapped at McCree who only glared at him up and down.

“You do not give orders, Hanzo. Answer me, why are you here when I told you not to follow?”

His heart sped up, anger threatening to pour into his words.

“I needed to talk to you-”

Genji’s shoulders stiffened, “You are wrong to put your selfish needs before my request.”

Hanzo huffed out angrily, teeth gritted. He could find no words to say to his brother in rebuttal, choosing rather to fume.

“McCree, what are Soldier 76’s orders,” Genji said without breaking visual contact with his brother.

“Put him in holding until he's interrogated ‘n cleared. He’s your brother, so I’m guess he had ties to the family business too, and that won’t go over well with 76 until he’s satisfied his line of questioning…”

Hanzo’s eyes snapped to McCree.

He nearly got a hand on his weapon, but the other two drew their own quickly, poised to strike if Hanzo made another move to his bow.

“Do not act foolishly, brother.”

 

\---

 

Hanzo sat stiffly on the cold metal bench, of the empty echoing metal room. Voices from down the corridor bounced into earshot. He could hear the dirty cowboy talking with the growling Soldier 76, a few unrecognizable voice in the mix. The discussion was verging on heated.

The soldier said something in a low voice that silenced the group.

A bang.

 What?”

“Are you KIDDING ME.”

More commotion. Hanzo craned his neck slightly to see through the glass panel of the door. A man in all black was being shoved down the hall by an older man build like a brick wall, who practically tossed him into the room with the archer.

The man in black spun angrily to face the slamming door, smoke pouring from beneath him. He seemed to hover in place, claw like hands held out and open. The soldier looked in through the glass at them.

Smoke plumed as the man in black rushed the door and slammed his fists against the reinforced glass. It crackled, spider web like fractures spreading from his fist.

Soldier 76 turned away slowly, leaving them.

His new cellmate turned his head quickly, spotting Hanzo whose face betrayed as much as the bone white mask the man wore.

The archer's eyes flicked over the hooded figure who growled “What are you looking at?”, head cocking owlishly 

Hanzo smirked and then let his gaze slide to the far wall, dismissively.

From the corner of his eye he watched the man, touch ground for the first time and walk heavily over to the bench across from the him. Hanzo’s ears rung from the silence. He could not even make out the man’s breathing, nor his heartbeat. It was unsettling.

The sound of thick leather rubbing broke the air as the specter leaned forward, head turning from side to side.

“I can see you.”

Hanzo squinted and then gave a withered look at the mock intimidation.

The man behind the mask “hmm”-ed in amusement, hands set on his knees, leaning forward more as if ready to spring up and strike.

Mouth turning to a snarl, Hanzo spat, “And what do you see?”

“A shell brimming with guilt, pathetically pawing at his brother's leg, feeling guilt for something that needed doing…”

His heart thumped loud in his chest. Images of arrows and knives and blood swelled into his vision, things Hanzo himself hadn’t conjured in his thoughts in years. Cold fingers pried into his mind, cracking open old locked doors, the things hidden behind those doors pressing for freedom reaching for the outside like living corpses.

_Hanamura. Spring. A storm was breaking over the horizon as the sun hung low and orange. His brother, young and weak and foolish sprawled on his hands and knees gripping his side where and arrow had pierced him. Coughing. Gaging. Crying._

“Your regret is nauseating, old man....”

Hanzo was wide-eyed with anger, teeth grit and grinding.

_He leveled an arrow at the younger man's chest as he begged with wide sad eyes. The archer felt nothing because they told him to feel nothing. A sickening squelch._

“That rush you got from seeing your brother, alive, he feels that too, only it’s tainted with disgust roiling in what’s left in his guts after what you’ve done to him,” the man behind the bone white mask sounded like he was grinning, “I should know, I can see him too…”

Hanzo couldn’t remember diving at the man, throwing him to the floor. He felt the man’s claws dig into the flesh of his biceps, nearly drawing blood. The man below him laughed even as Hanzo wrenched his arm from his grasp and landed blows to the mask, cracking bits of it and leaving blood behind from his knuckles.

He was absolutely cackling by the time two others, the old soldier and the wall-of-a-man were prying the archer off of him and pulling him to another room, hands secured to the table before him with magnetized cuffs around his wrists.

 

\--

 

Angela pried the clenched, swollen fists open with firm, gentle pressure. Hanzo was still riding an adrenaline high fueled by blind rage and dizzying memories. The look he gave the doctor didn’t deter her work. Infact she merely scoffed at him and harshly rubbed alcohol onto the open cuts.

“I will tell you now that we are short on medical supplies, so next time you decide to act foolishly, I will not be wasting gauze on you.”

This took the wind out of Hanzo’s anger a bit, but left him annoyed, “I will not be here long enough for a next time.”

“Well I’ll have to let Soldier 76 know of your plans for escape won’t I?”

“You cannot hold me here.”

The doctor Angela leveled him with a cold gaze, pausing in her ministrations, “There are people here that are giving up their lawful status in order to possibly give their lives in service of others.”

The doctor fingers tightened around his wounds, a fraction of a threat, “I am responsible for the wellbeing of everyone within these walls and I will do whatever is in my power to keep them safe...”

Hanzo refused to flinch though the grip on his hand was bordering on painful. She relented and quickly proceeded to wrap his wounds.

The doctor patted his bandages, flicking a smile at him, “After you assesment we will consider your departure. We cannot risk our security being compromised. I do not trust you as much as I would like to...”

_ As much as I trust your brother. _

"...I believe you understand.”

The dirty cowboy Mcree rolled against the door frame and knocked lightly.

The doctor turned her attention to him and smiled warmly.

“Here to debrief our new friend if you’re finished.”

“Oh! Quite…” she answered back, with a pat on Hanzo’s fists, “Yes?” She asked the archer.

“Quite…” he growled back.

He watched her place a gentle hand on Mcree’s shoulder as she left.

The cowboy looked back at him, face breaking into a wide eyed grin, “Man, you musta really pissed Angela off,” he whistled, “Don’t worry I’ve only ever see her break someone’s finger when she was real angry,” McCree flexed his pointer digit, trailing off.

“I am not afraid of your doctor.”

McCree shook his head as he sat and propped his legs onto the table, “So you regret comin’ to see your brother yet?”

“That is not of your concern.”

McCree nodded with a considering frown. He pulled out a heavy metal lighter, and took a pull from his smoke, ashing half the cigarette in a single puff.

“I’d offer ya one, but if I uncuff ya Morrison will fit one ‘a those around neck,” he chuckled, “Saw the footage of you climbin’ that cliff, you do that often? I mean I tried hiking once, but being as I’m from some place that's almost all flat, any sorta incline is a challenge.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes dramatically, but it didn't deter McCree from continuing.

“I see a hill, I grab a horse, no use in climbing it on my two legs, and I mean any hill. I once saw a mole hill and just lookin’ at it exhausted me-”

“Is this apart of your interrogation technique or have we entered the torture part?” Hanzo cut in loudly in a flat tone.

McCree pulled the cigarette from his mouth sniffing in. Hanzo noted the wideness in the bridge of the man’s nose. Broken a few times, probably made it hard for him to breathe. At least when he got out of these cuffs he could outrun the blathering idiot…

McCree studied Hanzo just as intently, “What’d he say to you in there that made you jump ‘im like that?”

Hanzo sat up straighter, pausing for a long beat, “Nothing.”

“I can look it up on the security footage-”

“He said that he could ‘see me’…”

The cowboy swallowed visibly, the shaky breath in betraying the small, hidden tremor that ran through his body. He nodded, looking away from Hanzo, lips puckered thoughtfully.

“Ya still have ties with your clan?”

“It has been near a decade since I’d last worked in a leadership capacity...or any capacity for that matter.”

McCree nodded, his smile lacking any truth behind it, “I’ll tell 76 you’ve been cooperative. ‘M sorry you were put into that situation in the holding room,” McCree’s eyes met Hanzo’s. The look he gave made Hanzo want to swallow back whatever emotion was about to pour forth. Behind the plume of cigarette smoke, brown eyes wandered down to the table surface and for a moment the brash dirty cowboy looked small and lost. His eyes flicked up to Hanzo’s again, searching for something but then quickly giving up. With a clearing of his throat the man was back again, fitting his persona snuggly around whatever had almost escaped.

“I’ll make sure ya don’t get put back in here with him, alright? Get ya a room to stay in. Next mission we have we’ll schedule a drop point for ya and you’ll be on your way.”

Hanzo blinked rapidly and mumbled, “Thank you.”

McCree stood and walked to the doorway and hung there in an aborted step from the room.

“You saw... things right?"

  
Hanzo shifted uncomfortably at the return to the subject of the holding cell. He paused, struggling to find anything he could say without revealing something awful and dark. But before he could speak McCree was gone from the room, door clicking softly closed.

\---


	2. Chapter 2

\---

True to the promise, Hanzo was given living quarters, but under strict supervision, by the large man Reinhardt (Hanzo actually enjoyed his presence), who would recount stories from his golden days at Overwatch. He was an admirable man, his morals and ethics matching the unyieldingness of his armor (Hanzo was shown picture upon picture).

Reinhardt tearfully told a story of how the team, led by Genji, had saved a townful of helpless people in Nepal, and how the children of the village’s orphanage had gift them garlands of flowers…

Hanzo wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it all felt. How ridiculously amoral he felt. It churned his stomach, the feeling of disbelonging. Around the time his brother had been saving parentless children, he recalled he was sending assassins to murder rival clan leaders...

Before Hanzo would dig too deeply into his thoughts Reinhardt would be patting a huge hand to his shoulder in a friendly way, taking him back to his room and securing him for the day. It went on like this for a week.

Not much contact with any other person besides a tight-lipped nod in his direction, with the exception of a brief run in with the blonde doctor and the old soldier.

Reinhardt was a meanderer in his walking and speaking so their morning routine of showers-food-closed quarters-food-sleep included a few slow hours of wandering through empty, dusted corridors. The large man would realize he had no idea where they had wandered, chuckle self deprecatingly and retrace the halls back to the main area.

On one such occasion, Reinhardt had wandered them to the medbay, close enough to pick up some conversation.

Deep growling, that was the Soldier. A light voice with the twinge of an accent, the doctor, Angela. She sounded concerned.

Hanzo’s ears perked up. He was use to tuning out other noise in order to eavesdrop. His focus allowed him to hear some snippets…

“...couldn’t just leave him…using him...wanted to do this to me...”

“...dangerous for us, you know that. I know what he meant to you…isn’t anything that can be done at this point…”

Hanzo half listened to Reinhardt, replying shortly to keep him distracted and walking.

The archer ventured a glance around his big guard as they came upon the doorway, to see a figure laid out, an unsettling deep purple color tinting what skin was visible. It looked lifeless, and for a second Hanzo ran through the names and the faces of those he’d seen around base. Had someone died on a mission?

The pair hovered over the body. The doctor rubbed her palm over her mouth, then touched her forehead. Her other arm hugged around her midsection, all self soothing gestures to try to ease her distress.

Hanzo had not realized at first, but the hulking chatterbox next to him had stopped and was now staring into the room.

The first to look up was Soldier 76. Angela followed his gaze to the door.

“Reinhardt-”

“Is...”

Angela was at the door before another word could be spoken. She gave the large man a meaningful look and shut the door softly.

Hanzo stared at the man until he snapped out of it. He nervously murmured something nondescript which Hanzo took as, “You should be back in your quarters”.

The archer could feel tremors running through the big hand as it landed on his shoulder and guided him away.

Not once had he seen or even heard from the loud brash gunslinger that week. Hanzo thought back to the interrogation room. He surmised that McCree had also come to meet the smoking specter. These people, the members of the now-revived Overwatch seemed like good people. Whatever demons they were dealing with that the Reaper could conjure up from the depths of their unconscious minds would not compare to Hanzo’s own stack of regrets.

They would be disgusted by him if they knew what he’d done to his brother...their comrade.

Hanzo wondered about the black clad specter, what he meant to the group of them. The look the old soldier gave Reaper that day was weary, but not frightened or angry.

“Does Soldier 76 know that man well, the one you call Reaper?” Hanzo had tried to ask Reinhardt in the rare gap of silence during a walk.

Reinhardt looked taken aback, as if the subject were taboo. His gaze turned downward and he let out a long deep sigh.

“Yes...and no…” he replied, walking just behind the archer as he led him around the same circuit through the compound he had every day prior, “Can you truly know someone after they’ve done something you did not think them capable of?”

Hanzo didn’t answer. Couldn't answer.  
\--

 

It was into the second week when Reinhardt had announced to him over some cold stale morning coffee, “Your brother Genji has asked to see you” and then added, “with your expressed permission, he said.”

Of course Genji would throw that in his face, his petty younger brother traits hadn’t worn off…

Hanzo scoffed at Reinhardt, “Yes of course I would like to talk to him.”

Reinhardt gave a lopsided smile.

Instead of being lead to Genji’s private quarters, he was put into the same interrogation room as before but was thankfully left uncuffed. He waited, not too long, before he heard a pair of footsteps approach the door.

Genji, flanked by the cowboy joined him in the small cold room. The archers hackles went up. So this wasn’t a private meeting at all…

“I thought you wanted to speak to me, brother.”

The younger Shimada huffed out a laugh, crossing his arms, “I do, it’s why I asked you here-”

“I believed we would discuss matters between us.”

“You sound annoyed, _Hanzo_.” Genji cocked his head.

“I am annoyed, _Genji_.” Hanzo also cocked his head but in an irritated, mocking way.

McCree stood between the two at the side of the metal table, glancing at the brothers who were glaring each other down in silence.

“Welp, you’re both gettin’ on as well as cats and dogs, ‘bout a good a time as any since your two moods seem to be pissed off and more pissed off…” McCree grinned at Hanzo whose eyes rolled over to him.

“Oh excuse me and exasperated too I see. Here’s the deal: you're brother says you're good; a good shot and good with stealth-”

“Are you attempting to recruit me for your half-minded group of mercenary washouts…” Hanzo said, a mixture of amusement and horror plastered on his face as he spoke equally to his brother and McCree.

McCree narrowed his eyes at him, obviously trying to keep his anger in check, “Yes-”

“And you think a group of decrepit, old-”

“Hey! We ain't all old, Lucio and Hanna are 20...somethin’...maybe…”

Hanzo blinked, “Apologies, a group of children and the elderly would make for a good militia?”

“Well not with that shit attitude.”

Genji shook his head, murmured something low to McCree and turned to leave.

Hanzo shot up in his chair slamming his hands on the table which cause Genji to nearly spin around and strike. Had the other man not been there to hold him back there would have been blood drawn. Hanzo yelled at him in their native tongue, some very _unbrotherly_ things, while Genji calmly spat back his own insults.

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! Holy….sit the hell down!”

With a growl the elder brother relented, breathing in and out audibly. Genji stood stiffly as McCree drew from him.

“Ya don’t want any part of this, fine. Next drop point is scheduled for 3 days from today. You hop on board the mission ship, we’ll toss ya a few miles outside of the mission point.”

McCree wiped his face with the back of his metal hand. It was the first time Hanzo had noticed the prosthetic. It had been swelteringly hot the past few days in the base (energy restrictions) that even the cowboy was forced to strip down to a flannel button up. His sleeves were rolled up high. His flesh arm was littered with burn scars and cuts. A lump on the bony part of his forearm spoke to a badly mended bone injury.

Hanzo’s face softened, and he looked away, first to the slightly dented table surface then up to his brother.

Genji’s masked face betrayed nothing but he tilted his head ever so slightly as if confused by his brother for a brief moment.

“That is acceptable.” Hanzo murmured.

McCree clapped his hands, “Good! Now I’d leave ya two here to talk if I wasn’t afraid of what I’d find when I came back…”

With a tight lipped expression, Hanzo rose from his seat, “I am done here.”

“As am I.” Genji growled in response.

\---

“There’s solid intel to suggest a movement of high caliber weaponry and supplies from the inner city of Lijiang to a low income district where people will be used to mule them across district lines…” Soldier 76 stood before the large cracked monitor that flickered in and out with images and video clips. Towards the edge of the screen was a slight crack that Winston had fiddled with only to give up with a sigh. The masked sniper stood at 76’s side, cradling a rifle like a silent guardian.

The others stood in a half circle around a glowing orange table that pinpointed global locations.

It’d been the first time the archer had seen them all gathered together and he thanked his good judgement for deciding to pass on the “opportunity”.

The two youngest members, Lucio and Hanna, fidgeted with obvious anxiousness, ready to go. But neither of them compared to the busy body, codename Tracer whose rhythmic table tapping was driving him mad.

A woman with pink hair and the largest most muscular arms Hanzo had ever seen (they rivaled Reinhardt’s even) put a huge palm over both of Tracer’s hands and flicked her a smile.

The runner smiled ruefully as the large woman pulled her to her side in a friendly hug.

Zenyatta stood across the room, shoulder to shoulder with Genji. He leaned close to Genji’s ear and said something that elicited a negative response. The omnic glanced over to the elder Shimada, nodded to him in a polite gesture.

Hanzo nodded back, lips pulled in a tight line.

“There are limitations to our equipment, but Winston has assured me that everything is in working order…”

The gorilla adjusted his glasses and with a long sigh said “Our weaponry is in working condition, but too much damage and I’ll have to start pulling metal off the walls for repairs...”

“And the medical supplies I have on hand are somewhat ...rudimentary also,” Angela chimed in, shifting uncomfortably.

“So this is more like a supply run?” the young girl in the rocket exosuit sounded bemused.

“Low risk, high reward…” 76 nodded.

Lucio leaned up against the desk and fiddled with the hologram flicking back through the intel, “So who’re we goin’ up against?”

The soldier remained silent.

“Small town gang? Or....” Lucio looked up at 76 expectantly, as did the others.

“What source has this intel come from?” a very short woman in a very big parka perked up.

Behind the old soldier tendrils of smoke coalesced into a human shape. The man clad in black, Reaper, stood tall and motionless, hands cuffed in front of him.

The group burst into arguing, sounds of surprise, and yells of disbelief.

“Talon? We’re targeting Talon!?” Lucio looked wide eyed.

“How do we know he hasn’t told them what we plan to do!?” Reinhardt bellowed.

The pink-haired woman shook her head, “This is foolish...I do not trust him!”

Reaper held his hands up, “I’m restrained and your captive what’s there not to trust?”

The youngest girl, Hana, piped up, “Are those handcuffs even keeping you from doing anything!?”

“Wanna find out?” he growled out with a laugh.

Soldier 76 turned to the taller looming specter grabbing him by the jacket.

McCree, who’d been absent until a few seconds prior to the meeting breaking down completely into arguing and yelling, insinuated himself between the 76 and Reaper.

“Woah woah easy! Jeez you lose your hat once and go lookin’ for it and end up walkin’ into a bar brawl-”

“Did you know of the plans the Soldier 76 has for us?!” the woman with the big arm’s accent thickened the more she got upset.

“Yep, looked at all the briefing materials you all saw-”

“And?”

“And I found my hat and I’m goin’. There’s a district fulla people there that are either gonna be shot to hell or kidnapped-”

“But what if he’s lying, man?” Lucio huffed out, “The we get stuck there and shot up…”

McCree pursed his lips and looked over 76, “I trust your judgment, you’d never make the raw mistake of leading us headlong into a stupid situation.”

76 grunted an affirmative response.

“Well if you think you can trust Mister Stormcloud over there, I trust you.”

Reaper growled at the cowboy who grinned back wide.

76 nodded.The silent masked sniper grabbed the cuffs roughly and pulled at the man in black to follow only to have him wrench from their grasp and smoke out, the plume zipping down the hallway towards the hold cells.

“Departure is in 10.” the old soldier grunted as he marched after the smoke cloud, the sniper in tow.

Hanzo watched through the small crowd of departing members as McCree stood stock still, staring. The cowboys hands shook.

As if he could feel the archer’s gaze, he turned quickly and smiled, propping his hands on his hips to hide them.

“Don’t worry, didn’t forget about the drop off if that's your concern…”

“Are you certain your trust has not been misplaced?”

McCree cocked his head and squinted at him, “You worried ‘bout us? Got attached haven’t ya…”

“I do not enjoy the thought of people being lead to their deaths blinded by their own stupidity.”

Still, the ever-present seeming grin plastered itself over the taller man’s face.

“Stupid is what bein’ a hero is all about, Hanzo!” McCree gestured for the archer to follow him, “Helpin’ a bunch a’ people ya don’t know and expecting nothin’ in return...only thing that makes sense anymore,” he said pausing at a door with a punch code. It clunked open, sliding only halfway, forcing McCree to shove it open the rest.

Hanzo stood behind him at the doorway of the open storage room, arms folded, “You’ll all get yourselves killed...”

The archer watched as the cowboy gingerly pulled his bow and gear from a metal crate, cradling it with care.

“We’re professionals remember? Overwatch don’t die,” he winked and handed the archer’s bow over.

\--

The old carrier, the one Hanzo remembered from the hangar, was piled into by every present member. It surprised him, how willing they were to continue with their mission after their well placed doubts. “Hero” and “stupid” went hand in hand.

Shuddering, the ship took off, leaving Hanzo to grip whatever surface possible and swallow back his nausea.

McCree nudged him in the shoulder, “Green looks good on ya!”

Hanzo was about to shoot back a witty retort about how red would be a good color on him and how he could arrange that when 76 began yelling loudly over the engine noise that leaked through the uninsulated hull, “Mark the side drop point for a 1 kilometer outside the primary. Can’t waste time.”

Winston nodded as his copilot Tracer punched in a few coordinates and gave him a thumbs up.

Around 3 hours in, a sharp beeping and then the smooth voice of an AI came over the carriers scratch comms.

“It appears that small pockets of fire fighting have broken out over the Prime mission point.”

Footage from a high point above flashed on to the screens positioned above them.

“It seems as though civilians have taken it upon themselves to stop the payload delivery,” she continued.

“Estimates have us arriving in less than 30 minutes with the side drop accounted-”

“Screw the drop! Get us there in 10!”

Hanzo pitched forward to yell but was thrown back into his seat as the ship accelerated.

With a lurch it landed behind the remnants of an old warehouse.

Genji shoved his brother back to his seat as the doors opened, engines barely turned off, “Stay. Here.”

He rushed towards the door trailing a giant mech and Reinhardt’s armored suit.

Gunfire was within earshot of the ship. Hanzo gripped his bow and glanced up at the news coverage on the screen. People dashing from thugs clad in black. The screen lit up brightly in an explosion from a building. He could make a dash for it now, probably make it to the outskirts of the city safely.

The footage flashed to ground level, a camera droid capturing images of a child running from the gunfire, cradling their younger sibling.

Hanzo’s teeth grated and in spite of himself he rose from his seat and slung the bow over his shoulder.

“Agent Genji gave you orders to stay with the ship,” the AI said as he gloved his hands.

“Where is _agent Genji_ located so I can tell him what I think of his orders.”

The screen flashed to footage of his brother taking on what looked to be about ten men with McCree and the omnic at his side.

The screen zoomed out to a clear location map, pinpointing the ship's location and the location of the members scattered around the skirmish areas.

Hanzo quickly made his way to higher ground, climbing up the side of the warehouse. A few blocks in, a fire had started.

He lept across roofs skidding to a stop on the building adjacent to the blaze, nocked an arrow and sent it through a cracked window.

The eco-locator allowed him to spot three people inside crowded in a corner on the top floor. Hanzo grabbed a length of cable from the rooftop and without hesitation he dove into the building.

One of the three huddled people screamed as glass broke and the archer rolled to a stop, keeping low to the floor.

Hanzo grabbed the man roughly by the arm, “Follow!” he pulled him crouching towards the broken windows.

Hanzo threw the rope from the window and braced his feet against the sill, sitting on the floor.

“GO!”

The man scooped the two young girls into his arms, both holding on to him desperately as he swung out the window and repelled the few stories down.

Once the archer felt the weight leave the rope, he dove from the window and scraped his way down the far wall to safety.

The two children were coughing and gasping for air as the man held them close to him.

“Thank you…”

Hanzo nodded, “You should get to cover. Quickly.”

The man still looked dazed but stood and carried his children away without another word.

\---

“I’m pinned down and need backup! My mech is too damaged! There are people here I can’t leave them!!”

“Calvary is comin’ darlin’ don’t you worry.” McCree dashed with Lucio in tow, blowing enemies back.

The cowboy rushed a bit too far ahead of the medic and ended up face to face with five thugs who turned and fired on him.

McCree scrambled around a corner, cursing, “I’m almost there D.Va just-”

The five armed men dropped one after another, stone dead, arrows sticking from their chest.

McCree looked up to the rooftops and spotted the silhouette of the archer who lept down to him.

“I’ll sing yer praises after we get Hana outta there-”

“Wait,” Hanzo grabbed the back of McCree's shirt before he took off, “see what I see.”

He put his thumb and forefinger on the back of the cowboys neck. Blinking quickly McCree spotted silhouettes of soldiers through the building wall, DVa’s mech pinned into a corner. In a space no bigger than a closet, at least a dozen civilians were huddled for cover.

“How-”

“You go through the front. Distract them. Keep them tightly grouped.”

“Can do. What’er you planning on-?”

Hanzo was already halfway up the wall before he could finish.

McCree bolted for the door, rolled in through the entrance and with gun blazing, fanned out a chamber of bullets, taking down the five men by the door.

He threw a flash grenade and dove through the group of dazed thugs, putting himself behind DVa’s mech, using it as cover.

“The leg is busted! I can’t move!”

“Don’t worry sister we got back up topside.”

The men cleared from their daze as McCree reloaded.

The mechs guns rotated and gave and empty click, “MY GUNS ARE EMPTY! JESSE!”

He fired off his rounds quickly, trying just as fast to reload. The thugs opened fire one after another, moving ever forward from their cover.

D.Va’s suit screamed with warning alerts of imminent structural failure, “JESSE!!”

“TIGHTLY GROUPED, HANZO. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!”

“WAIT _THE GROUCHY ARCHER IS YOUR BACKUP_!?”

From a high window top, Hanzo nocked an arrow and in a low growl that ended in a yell, bellowed out something that Jesse would have to remember to ask Genji to translate later.

The first thought that the cowboy had was, “we’re fucked if he thinks he can kill a dozen or so men with a single shot, I don’t care how good he is,” which then changed to “holy shit I’m dreamin’” as the single arrow swirled to life and two dragons as big as trains charged downward, obliterating the talon agents in a whirling mass of bright blue and teeth.

The two huge serpents split apart leaving a wide gap that kept Hana and Jesse unharmed.

The warehouse was silent save for the pops of gunfire and boom from Pharah’s rockets outside. Jesse wrenched open the front of DVa’s mech and pulled the girl from it as the leg collapsed from under it.

Hanzo gingerly made his way to the ground, looking a bit worn.

The civilians in hiding were ushered quickly from the building and down a side street.

D.Va leaned her weight into Jesse, favoring her leg until Hanzo joined them. She threw herself into his chest locking him in a tight hug, thanking him over and over.

Jesse breathed heavily, adrenaline still rushing. He stared intensely at the archer, still in shock by what he’d seen. Hanzo’s eyes found his, a bit tired but just as fiery.

The comm in McCree’s ear chirped to life.

“76 wants to group up at the ship, says Talon’s cleared out.”

 

 

\--


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay (for anyone actually reading this hah!), realized the story needed to be reworked, AND my job has been demanding. Gonna try to run updates at least once a week (maybe Wednesdays?) from now on, but probs not this week, that'll start next. Next chapter will be a more fun, bonding one, though I do love setting up the angst and drama!

\--

 

Outside the open deck of the carrier three civilians with rifles stood, solemn looks on their faces. 

“We could not let this go on near our homes any longer. They take our family members and turn them into soldiers or mules for what they need. Not again…” the woman, dirtied with soot said, jaw clenched.

Lena, looked worried and proud, a sad smile on her face, “I don’t blame ya for standin’ up for yourselves like that ...it's just-”

“We saw what you’ve been doing, the way you’ve all been trying to help, trying to fight these...people,” the shorter man, stocky and old, spat the last word out in disgust, “You inspire us. Inspired our people to stand up for their homes.”

Lena sighed and looked away, looked at the people Angela was treating on the deck of the carrier, ranging from slightly bruised to crushed limbs and burns.

“Is there anything else you can tell us about their activity, what Talon’s been doin’ here?”

The three looked at each other, “We’ve seen them transporting omnic parts. And one of our boys, he’s seen them building machines in the warehouses here in plainsight. They thought we would do nothing about it…”, the youngest of the three, no older than 20, grit his teeth.

Lena put a hand on his shoulder, “We’ll make sure you won’t have them to worry about anymore,” she slipped a comm into his shaking hands, and smiled, “next time you see em hanging around here you give us a call. Until then you stay safe. Keep your people safe…”

He nodded at her on the verge of tears.

Hanzo bore the weight of Hana, carrying her mostly, through the open door and laid her down on the deck. In an instant, Lucio was hovering over her, worryingly.

“I’m fiiiine my legs just busted. But my MEKA-”

“Will be fine,” Winston announced, dragging the damaged suit through the threshold, “after some...extensive… repairs.”

“YOU, Winston are the second most awesome person tonight.”

“Second?”

Hana made puppy eyes towards the archer who gave an exasperated eyeroll. Lucio stared daggers at Hanzo, just as Hana flew into a long, bit over exaggerated, recounting of events that Hanzo tried to tune out.

McCree patted his shoulder roughly, “Looks like you got an admirer…” he wiggled his eyebrows at the archer who scoffed at him.

Just as Hana was rounding in on the end of her story, Soldier 76 entered, masked sniper in tow, along with Pharah (suit heavily damaged) who was leading a restrained Talon agent by the arm onto the open carrier door.

The agent wrenched his arm from her hold and fell to his knees, spitting a mouthful of blood at her feet.

She glared and announced dryly, “This man needs a medic.”

“I don’t need your fucking medic, I’m already dead.”

76 crouched down to the man's eye level, causing him to flinch backwards and then laugh.

“You're all dead once they find you, and they will find you,” he said looking around the group, all falling silent, “and  _ you, _ ” he said with audible glee, turning his attention to the soldier, “you kept them from tying up a loose end. They’ll kill him and keep you, make you worse than he ever was. They’ll break you and then dispose of you too, but the difference is they’ll draw it out. They’ll  _ enjoy it. _ ” he hissed, blood coming from between his teeth.

Soldier gave him no reaction. “This man needs a medic.” he repeated, and stood up, turning away.

The talon agent shot up from the ground and laughed like a man possessed, throwing his head back, yelling, “I’M ALREADY A DEAD MAN-”

A shot rang out, and the talon agent went down hard, blood pooling quickly under his head on the old metal floor of the ship.

“SNIPER. EVERYONE DOWN.”

People screamed, the members all ducked or shielded the civilians.

76 and his sniper were at the door. Hanzo had his bow drawn back, pointing in the direction of the shot.

A woman, clad in a skin tight dark suit, stood on a rooftop, an impossible distance away. Her long rifle smoked at its tip as she reloaded and lined her shot up again.

The masked sniper pushed the old soldier out of the way and took a shot, sending the woman reeling back by the arm and spinning down out of sight on the rooftop.

“CLOSE THE DOORS. GET US OFF THE GROUND.”

Lena was at the control panel in an instant, flicking on controls as the ship lit up and took off.

 

\---

After an hour of fly overs, searching for the sniper or remnants of talon agents, they dropped off the treated civilians at a spot in the center of town where a large group had gathered, around reinhardt and zarya no less, who waved down the carrier.

The team was thanked profusely with words and supplies (courtesy of Talon), told not to worry that they would be safe, could take care of their own, and that they would look to Overwatch if they were in need of assistance again.

Reinhardt beamed with pride, a look that Hanzo recalled seeing in old pictures.

“You are brave people, any one of you, Overwatch would be proud to have,” he announced to the throng as he boarded the ship.

Once the doors had closed, and the adrenaline had worn from them, exhaustion took over. Most of the group fell to sleep or drifted close to it in a haze.

Hanzo felt his head loll around. His muscles ached, legs burned, but most of all mind felt hazy. It happened more often than not, after summoning the force that lived within him. 

“You tired old man?”

Hanzo eyes shot open, world spinning for a brief second. He sluggishly turned his head and spared a withered look at the cowboy who sat next to him. The timbre of the man’s voice was comforting, and had he been more fuzzy-minded, might have asked him to hum a song, any song to put him at ease. But his talking thought...

“All that dragon filled flashy show got ya lookin’ worn out…”

That grated him.

“If by ‘flashy show’ you mean projecting that which is my soul into a pure physical embodiment and by ‘tired’ you mean exhausted from exertion of such a feat, then yes, I am ‘tired’ from the ‘flash show’,” he growled, anger lacking edge from being so close to slipping into unconsciousness.

McCree’s eyes went wide, “Woah, well, didn’t mean nothin’ by it just trying to get your goat.”

“I would do anything right now to cease your talking,” Hanzo groaned, leaning against a cool plate of metal to the side of his seat.

“So, you’ll stay then?”

 

\--- 

Hana’s mech was salvageable with tools Winston had (and some metal paneling from his own quarters). He’d called in a favor too, from a machinist named Torbjorn, a small stocky man with one clamp-claw shaped metal arm and a knack for fixing the unfixable.

Even Pharah’s tattered suit was made anew with a bit of elbow grease and ingenuity from the two.

And D.Va herself was patched up and put on bedrest, which meant time in front of the large monitor in the common area (usually accompanied by Lucio), leg in tight compression wraps to accelerate the healing of her badly broken bone. She flicked on the monitors and it didn't take long for her to find news reports pouring in about the events surrounding Lijiang, each filled with more grandiose lies than the last.

“ _ A group of rebels infiltrated a government compound outside of the city of Lijiang in the early morning hours setting buildings ablaze and leaving a trail of destruction in their wake… _ ”

“They lie anymore through their teeth, they will end up losing them,” Zarya growled in disgust.

Mei sighed, “At least they haven’t-”

“ _...and individuals linked to the global organization Overwatch, their resurgence, unprecedented and unsanctioned by government officials…” _

Pictures of Reinhardt with Zarya in tow entering the carrier were plastered across the screen.

Mei gave a lopsided smile, “Nevermind…” she looked over at Zarya who looked from the news coverage, to her arm, flexed and then back to her picture on the screen.

The shorter woman smirked at her as Zarya gave an embarrassed little look.

“Jack won’t be happy about this...” Reinhardt murmured, as an older man in a suit buttoned too tight began to prattle as more and more pictures, blurry but recognizable, flicked up.

“I’m not…” Soldier 76 growled, Reaper at his side, restrains nowhere on him. The group gathered gave a wary looks between each other. The specter hunched a bit in discomfort.

“ _ These people, these vigilantes,” the swollen man on the screen spat in disgust, “NEED to be stopped!” _

Lena rolled her eyes at the dramatics, draped over Winston’s shoulder, who was furiously typing away at his computer, “Sure this one’s been quite dangerous since we tapped the last jar of peanut butter,” she thumbed her finger at Winston who smiled but didn’t pause in his work.

McCree grinned at the two and looked over at Hanzo whose eyes remained steadfastly locked to the monitors.

_ “They think that because once upon a time they were given free reign as some... ‘global protectors’ that they’re judgement in geopolitics matters and that’s just not the case!” _

Even Angela gave a groan and boo-ed at the pundit.

_ “But I guess rules don’t apply to people who don’t respect authority?” _

_ “I completely agree with your assessment-” _

Another voice chimed in, a thin pale man in a well-ironed dark suit, as jeers and groans from the members got louder.

“Turn this crap off Winston,” McCree hollered over the noise.

“Wait.” Reaper was at attention, was gripping Jack’s arm, masked face fixated towards the screen, “Don’t turn it off. QUIET.” the man growled, smoke billowing as the room dropped into silence.

“ _...and we will be handling this situation to the best of our abilities…”  _ the thin man continued an innocuous statement as Reaper jabbed a finger at the screen.

“THAT is not good...if that…” Reaper paused taking in a deep breath, “if that man is on that screen and people are  _ listening _ to him, this is more fucked than you know,” He was facing Jack Morrison now, whose stare was wild with intensity.

“So what! Some chatterbox from Talon is up on a talk show runnin’ his mouth-” McCree cut into the silence bravely.

Reaper whipped around to the group, “He IS Talon. If shining golden boy Jack Morrison was considered the poster boy for Overwatch,  _ he  _ is that for Talon.”

“Let him talk then they will realize what he is! We will make them see!” Reinhardt bellowed.

“How do you suppose we set that up? Maybe send our own PR person?” Reaper shot back, sarcasm dripping, “Make sure we outfit them in about a dozen layers of head to toe  _ kevlar,  _ maybe they’ll make it through the first hail of bullets. I vote for the giant ape-”

Winston stopped typing but refused to turn around, Lena instead jumped to his defense.

“You better DAMN well leave him alone-” Lena was in the specter’s space, almost daring him to take a swing.

“Or what, he’ll punch more buttons and get more of you idiots to show up? Usually people don’t jump to end their lives when a  _ monkey _ pushes a  _ button,  _ people just make cute videos of it and it doesn’t go any farther-”

This time Lena did take a swing, right for his head, connecting. Reaper stumbled, stunned, went to strike back but was caught, wrapped up from behind by Angela and Jack who kept grabbing for solid body parts through the smoking, disintegrating ones.

Reinhardt was easily holding Lena back but she continued to sputter out a slew of threats, swinging her legs wildly.

Reaper broke from the set of desperately grasping hands and lunged wildly. Reinhardt turned his bulky body, shielding Lena and a few others.

Hanzo felt his shoulder being pulled backward, body moving out of the way under a strong, unyielding metal grasp. The same hand then wound its way through smoke and growling and tore backwards, grabbing Reaper by the throat.

The action was quick and violent but the voice that said “Reyes stop!” was pleading and worried. The specter growled and slashed at McCree’s face, hand uncovered by its usual talons but still dangerous sharp and inhumanly sharp.

The sound of glass shattered at Reaper’s back and a mist rose up. The masked sniper was circling him now unloading dart after dart into the man’s back. He took another swing, and landed on the sniper’s glass visor, cracking it badly

Jack was up and on him again, wrestling Reaper to the ground, arms locked tightly around him, but as quickly as he was restrained he was ether again.

He stood looming up over Jack who lay prone, hand extended out to the others to keep them from charging forward. 

“Listen to me…please…” Jack spoke in an even tone to Reaper as he leaned in closer, raising his hand up, dark black claws peering out from under his long sleeves, “You need to calm down…”

Reaper reared back. Angela screamed out a pleading, “ _ STOP.” _

The sniper tore off their shattered helmet. “Gabriel…”, the unmasked woman called in a familiar accent.

The specter turned and froze, growling an inhuman, “Ana?”

She unloaded a small sidearm dart gun into his torso and he fell to the ground in a heap, tendrils floating up from his unconscious form.

“Mama?”

The voice from behind Hanzo was small, choked off. It sounded lost, the way a child would sound being separated from a parent for a bit too long.

_ Pharah _ .. _.Fareeah,  _ Hanzo’s memory supplied. The young girl’s eyes brimmed with tears as she looked from the sniper Ana around to the group accusingly, looking for guilty faces, eyes demanding to know  _ who knew. _

“Fareeah, wait-”

She shook her head angrily, jaw set in a tense line and marched away from the group.

 

\---

“Thanks for offerin’ to stitch me up...I don’t wanna bother Angela, she’s got a lot on her mind,” McCree half smiled, trying not to disrupt the sew up job Hanzo was doing on his cheek. The cut was small but deep enough that the archer and grabbed him and pulled him aside, to the small space set up as a makeshift kitchen away from the unease. It seemed to calm the gunslinger down, being led for a moment, told to sit still and calm down. Hanzo could tell his mind was racing, trying to search for a solution to all...this.

“You knew him...Reyes...he was your mentor?”

McCree squinted and then flinched as a cloth wet with alcohol was pressed to the cut.

“How’d you know that?”

Hanzo hummed, “The way you talk to him, your tone...how you act when you talk of him denotes fear that was once respect.”

“You got all that just from a couple times of me bein’ round him?”

The archer purposely prodded McCree with the thin needle, “Stop smiling or you’ll ruin your stitches. And yes...you are all quite obvious with your feelings on many matters,” Hanzo tied off the last stitch, “It is necessary to observe and quickly assess how others feel. Feelings lead to actions... feelings can be manipulated…”

Jesse sat back looking impressed, “Should send you out on recon missions.”

Hanzo nodded sharply at him, “You smile so often people must think you’re an idiot. Maybe the wound will teach you to control your face.”

“I’ll work on my half smile then huh? Wouldn’t want you figurin’ out how smart I am.”

Hanzo tried and failed to hold back a fond smile, looking down at his fingers as he wrapped the length of unused thread around them.

“...What do you think I should do?”

Hanzo looked up and tilted his head. McCree had that voice again, the one from the interrogation room…

“About the situation, I mean. Things are...shaky, can’t have things fall apart. We’re all too deep in this, one wrong move and it could be our last.”

“It’s not yours to fix. Why do you feel that it is?”

Jesse didn’t look at him, was staring off at a wall, lost in his head again.

It was almost as if Hanzo could see him, a young man, in this small chosen army.

The young man full of directionless energy finally being focussed on a goal, supported by what he saw was a family, something he’d never had. The young man was proud, felt powerful, in control and needed for the first time in his life.

And then the young man watched that all fall to pieces.

And he was alone again.

Hanzo’s chest fell with a hollowing breath as he watched the man across from him blink mechanically.

“What would you all use to do, to work out situations?”

Jesse snapped out of his trance, looked quickly at Hanzo and smiled, straining his stitches.

  
\---


	4. Chapter 4

\---

 

The cowboy was hauling a crate from the storage room with the busted door. It was very old, if the worn hinges and dust were anything to go by.

“This, is what we use to call 'Problem Solving 101' way back when,” McCree popped open the case and the top slid off, broken.

Hanzo peered inside the crate next to a gleeful McCree as the gunslinger pulled out some old, green tinted glass bottles of varying shapes and sizes.

“Damn Hanzo you’ve got some good ideas when you got em.”

“ _You’re going to drink?”_

“We,” McCree gestured between himself and the archer, two bottles in hand, “are ALL going to drink.”

“How...old is it?” Hanzo’s face was screwed up in a distrusting frown of disgust.

The man cradling now seven or eight bottles stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully, “Near...a decade?”

“What?!-”

“Don’t you worry when me an’ Angel bottled this stuff she got all medical with it and sterilized the shit out of everything when we brewed the moonshine. Said it’d last us through at least another crisis if we needed,” He winked at Hanzo who followed him out into the common area where everyone, save for the few who’d escorted Reaper off, and Ana who was presumably with her daughter.

“What is this?” Zarya was the first to question, watching as the gunslinger gingerly placed bottles on the holotable's surface.

Tracer was the first to grab a bottle and use the corner of a table to pop the metal cap off, “Problem solving 101.” She mumbled as she took a long pull from the bottle. 

McCree pointed to her and nodded, “Lena remembers!”

“Oh!” Lena seemed to shrivel up and shiver as she gulped it down, “That’s-” She coughed, “That’s way stronger than I remember…”

Zarya rolled her eyes and snagged the bottle from her hands and took a pull, eyes widening, “This…” She sputtered, “this will do.”

Soon bottles were being grabbed from the table, and passed about.

D.Va turned the bottle over in her hand, nose pinching up in distaste, “Does it taste bad?”

McCree took a swing, face pinching up as he nodded and wheeze out an, “Oh yeah.”

She pouted in considering way, “Will it make my leg stop hurting for a while?”

“Sister,” the gunslinger began, “it’ll make you feel like you got four legs and became a centaur.”

Without skipping a beat after he spoke, Hana popped the lid from the bottle in one swift, strong motion at the corner of the table (Jesse was impressed) and took a large gulp, coughing only slightly. Lucio took the bottle she handed him, sniffed it, shrugged and took a long drink as well. “It ain’t half bad!”

“It’s not soju…” she murmured back.

As they drank, they ended up sprawled out on the floor. Hana sat on the sort-of-comfortable couch, leg propped up on one of its arms after Angela had ordered to keep it elevated. Lucio sat with her leg across his lap, idly rubbing the compression cast and fiddling with its edges.

Mei leaned against the foot of the couch, and pressed to her side was the big Russian woman who nearly finished a bottle all herself.

“Here” Zarya shoved a bottle towards Genji and waved it, “Your omnic friend cannot drink, so you drink double.” She smirked at him.

“I think you forget that my metabolism is increased. I could drink three times what you could and still be sober,” he shot back at her cheekily.

“And while I do not condone the overconsumption of any substance, it is an impressive feat to see my student drink men three times his size ‘under the table’ as you’d say…” Zenyatta added, draping a friendly arm around his shoulder.

“So how drunk do we have to be before we can work out any problems,” Winston muttered.

“That, my friend, is the point of Problem Solving 101, none of us have ever passed the class yet, so we keep havin’ t’ take it.” McCree shot back grinning widely.

“Gabriel came the closest, you must admit.” Ana who seemed to have appeared suddenly, plucked the bottle from McCree’s hands and unflinchingly took a long drink for a good few seconds before passing it off to her daughter.

Pharah looked at her mother, glaring.

“Daughter of mine, you can continue to seethe at me or you can drink and we can fist fight later if that is what you wish.”

Reinhardt let out a loud laugh and shook his head as Pharah’s eyes went wide, “I would be careful I’ve seen your mother take on Morrison quite handily,” he boomed.

Pharah rolled her eyes and took the bottle, mumbling “This does not mean I forgive you…” She plopped down on the floor next to her mother.

“I need far more than this,” Winston grabbed another bottle.

“Don’t drink outta sadness, big guy,” Lena patted his shoulder and Winston gave her a small smile, “Reaper don’t know what he’s on about…”

“I fail to see what Soldier 76 sees in that man besides a good source of intel,” Zarya added.

Lucio nodded, “Ain’t friendly that’s for sure.”

Reinhardt sighed, “You do not know the half of it,” he gave Ana a pointed look. She mumbled something about dealing with demons.

Hanzo rolled a still closed bottle in his hands, staring down at the bright green glass, “The cruelty he shows to the rest of you...imagine how cruel he is to himself.”

The all looked up, every one of them, in surprise. Even his brother seemed startled.

The archer felt self conscious suddenly, until Zarya, close to inebriation broke the silence, “You… You do not talk much but when you do, you are very philosophical. I like this man.” She announced to the room.

“I’ll drink to that,” McCree smiled at Hanzo and held up his bottle.

Their drinking wore on, glass bottles clinked as they were put to the floor, empty, and quiet murmurings between Pharah and her mother went on.

They all looked looser, the tension of earlier drained away like each bottle and then conversation felt comfortable and open.

“I don’t want to give this up…” Mei said in a quiet voice, “If it’s true...about people taking Talon seriously, thinking they’re legitimate...that they’re like what Overwatch was…”

The implication was chilling.

Hanzo looked up, for a brief moment met his brother’s gaze across the small space.

“We’re the only things standing between the sunlight and the stormclouds,” McCree slurred.

“You’re pretty poetic when you’re drunk man,” Lucio groaned, head lolling back with a grin loosened by alcohol.

“Hey!” McCree gestured sloppily with his hand,“Any of my material ends up in your songs I get writer’s credit.”

The musician grinned wider, “After we save the world we’ll start a band, all of us…” he said dreamily.

Pharah flung her hand up, drunker than most, “I...can play the guitar very well.” She looked over at her mother, who was far more composed.

“Really?” Ana smiled.

Pharah pointed across the room at McCree who was slouched so far down the wall he was practically laying on the floor. He held up three fingers,“Taught her all three chords I know.”

Hana burst out laughing at that.

“AND I,” Zarya announced loudly, “use to play the flute.”

Mei was practically asleep against the large woman’s side as she mumbled, “The piano is such a mathematical instrument it’s perfect…”  
  
Lena pointed wildly at Reinhardt, “OUR DRUM MAN!!!”  
  
“No no I’ve never played the drums! Now the tambourine…”  
  
Hana began snorting loudly, “C-Could you imagine, we-we could give him a tiny little hammer to hit the tambourine with!!!…” and she was off again wheezing through a laughing fit, grabbing at her stomach.

Lucio was right behind her, “Just...HUGE posters of Rein with his tambourine all over Numbani-”

“Coming this summer! Giant man hits tiny tambourine with tinier hammer!!”

At this point Pharah, Mei, Tracer and Reinhardt had joined Hana and Lucio in hysterics, far too inebriated to care to make sense of what they were laughing at.

Hanzo who’d chosen to stay more sober watched as his brother and the omnic monk laughed too, his brother giggling the more Hana added on to the story. Lucio was all about Winston being a lead singer after he’d belted out some (admittedly good) operatic melody.

Hanzo glanced over to McCree who despite being half shot through with alcohol was looking bright, grinning in spite of his wound (he would chastise him later about it). He looked younger, so much younger. Hanzo recalled one of the photos Reinhardt had shown him, the group of them all together, filled with so much hope.

The laughter rolled into  tired sighs as they came down from their high, tiny sporadic pockets of giggles littered around the room.

“To our future chart topping band,” Lucio held out his bottle.

“To helping those who cannot help themselves,” Zenyatta added in, voice a soothing hum.

“To saving the world...again,” Ana finished, smiling at Reinhardt.

 

\---

 

It was a short matter of time before they’d all fallen into a drunken sleep, most propped up or lying close to where they’d been sitting.

Hana had turned on an old game of hers where little men in carts drove around in circles and blew each other up with turtles. To Hanzo’s surprise, his brother had joined in with a “You think you are the only one with electronic game prowess…” and then proceeded to school them all to Hana’s frustrated annoyance.

That was only ten minutes ago, and now all of them were sprawled out, save for the perfectly postured Zenyatta who’d powered down in a proper sitting pose.

Slumped up against a wall in what would cause the worse neck ache to wake up to was McCree, all sorts of aschew in his clothes.

Hanzo, moderately buzzed from his paced drinking, kicked at McCree’s leg from where he was sitting, managing to nudge the gunslinger over more. McCree groaned but didn’t move.

“You are cutting your air supply off the way you’re sleeping, you’ll give yourself sleep paralysis.”

“You’re not a doctor you don’t know that….did your dragons tell you that? How did you do that thing t’ me before where I saw through walls-”

Hanzo groaned, “Stop with your questions you barely make sense…drunk people should be more tired...be tired and silent.”

McCree rolled until he was laying on the floor, on his back looking up at Hanzo with a grin on his face.

“And stop smiling like that.” the archer grabbed the brim of the man’s hat and yanked it down over his face. McCree grabbed the offending hand, throwing Hanzo off balance, and pulled him so he was draped over the gunslingers midsection.

He could feel the man under him being to laugh, “Oh honey, but I ain’t even sober, you takin’ advantage?” McCree threw and arm over him to keep him pinned in the strange drunk hug.

The archer felt flushed from embarrassment and the rush of being so close to another person.

It’d been so many years, too many for Hanzo to even count for him to remember what it felt like to touch another person gently, to be touched gently. Though this wasn’t the best example, this sloppy half hug from an extremely inebriated slurring man, it was the closest he’d gotten to another person outside of brutal combat or being manhandled into submission by a grappling enemy.

And for a moment the alcohol took over, and he laid across the stupid grinning man below him and pretended…

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Han, you gotta drag me somewhere comfortable still.”

“Idiot I am leaving you here…” Hanzo pried up from the grasp in spite of himself, “You’re too cumbersome.” He stumbled over to an unoccupied chair and pulled the cushion from it, tossing it to the cowboy, hitting him square in the face. McCree shoved the pillow under his head and in moments was snoring again.

Hanzo stood there for a while, staring down at him, shivering from a chill that ran through him. He swallowed heavily after a sigh, and grabbed at a few of drop cloths that were scattered over pieces of equipment, spreading one over Hana and Lucio, draping one on the back of his brother and finally tossing one out over the gunslinger.

 

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Big side note here: I understand that Ana is muslim and that there's a religious tenet that prohibits drinking. Some people make arguments that as long as nothing bad happens and you're a good person, partaking in alcohol isn't that big of a deal. And the debate goes on.
> 
> I figure that since this is so far flung in the future, things have changed (in my imagining) and people are more accepting, less restrictive. Which isn't to say abstaining from alcohol is bad (it's probs a great option!), I just wanted to have a bonding chapter, because damn these guys need it. I would never look to offend. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> \--
> 
> I'm hoping to keep this short, but I feel like this will be an 8 chapter story this far. This is the first time I've written in a long, long time so if anyone would be willing to beta for me I'd greatly appreciate it.


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